Poetry

Totality of your wholeself is condemned 
life extracts the price. 
You must follow on the dotted line, 
transporting the truth. 
Not striking the shadows 
spirit must prepare for, 
the funeral of unwritten code. 
 
Insignificant desires on your side 
of life were whimpering, 
the testosterone is going very low, 
and the will to put the signature is gone. 
We spit furitively to raise the questions, 
to find the new answers. 
And the water did not know how to explode. 
 
Looking beyond the emptiness, 
like the bit of softness between the grass and sky, 
fills the eyes. 
Gaping wounds had stunned for a long time. 
An epitome of healing had failed. 
Non-existence was the crucial point, 
for the raging debate.